


'til the heart stops searching, and the world starts burning down

by transkylo (captainandor)



Category: Dracula & Related Fandoms, Dracula (TV 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Modern Era, Morally Grey Johnathan Harker, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, POV Third Person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:07:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23704372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainandor/pseuds/transkylo
Summary: “Mr Harker,” she says, slowly. God, she needs a coffee. And eight hours more sleep to deal with this – “You were reported missing in 1897 and presumed dead shortly thereafter.”Johnathan’s lip twitches up at the corner, amused. “Funny little business, all of that.” He says.Zoe glances down at the table, her eyes catching on his hands. They’re slender and pale, and his fingernails are curved into sharp little points, much like Dracula’s own.orJohnathan Harker comes back from the dead. Again.
Relationships: Dracula/Jonathan Harker
Comments: 41
Kudos: 166





	'til the heart stops searching, and the world starts burning down

**Author's Note:**

> Its been months, and I've not gotten this idea out of my head, so here we are. 
> 
> I kept thinking about Johnny and Dracula being together in present day, and also a more morally grey Johnathan, because while I do love him just as he is, I'm a sucker for characters who are just....kind of _bad_. Also you can't be a vampire for 100+ years without committing some crime here and there.

Zoe isn’t expecting the phonecall when it comes – and so she opens her eyes, squinting blearily at the clock on her bedside table as the phone buzzes insistently against the wooden surface. 

The time blinks back at her. 12.35 AM. 

She sits up with a groan, rubbing at her face with one hand as she reaches blindly to answer the call with the other. It takes her two attempts to swipe her thumb against the screen successfully. 

“Hello?” she says, too exhausted to bother with professionalism. She hasn’t even checked to see who it is, but whoever is calling her at this time should know better than to expect much from her.

“Dr Van Helsing?” the anxious voice replies. She frowns, wondering why Jack would be calling her so late. “I’m really sorry to wake you. I’m at the facility.” 

She casts another glance at the clock as if to confirm the time to herself. Surely Jack has to be in University first thing tomorrow morning. He’s a medical student – clever and dedicated – something must have happened, if he’s working so late into the night. 

“The facility?” Zoe repeats, “What’s happened, Jack? Is everything alright?” 

“It’s easier if I explain it in person. How quickly can you be here?” 

Zoe feels suddenly awake, as though someone has drenched her in icy water. Her brain switches straight into professional mode, and she pushes her bedcovers away, swings her legs over the edge of the mattress. “I can be there in fifteen minutes.” She tells him. 

“I’ll meet you at the door.” Jack says, and hangs up. 

She stares at her screen for a moment, anxiety twisting in her gut. Then adrenaline kicks in, and she stands from her bed, moving on autopilot – she grabs whichever clothes are hanging over the back of her chair and hopes that they are clean. A shower can wait. She dresses and sweeps her sleep tangled hair into a ponytail. Worst case scenario is that something has happened with the Count – could he have escaped? Or attempted an escape? Jack would surely have told her, if something like that had happened, it would be a high security alert. Someone else would have called her. 

The not knowing is the worst part. 

She makes the journey to the facility in half the usual time, as the roads are blissfully empty at this time of night, and she’s pushing the speed limit. She pulls into her parking space by the door and jumps out of the car when she spots Jack, hands in his pockets, pacing in the foyer. 

“Jack,” she calls, jogging over. He lets her in, his face pinched, dark circles under his eyes. He looks exhausted. “Have you slept at all?” Zoe asks, squeezing his arm in greeting. 

“A little. Over my desk,” he rubs at his neck, indicating his discomfort, “It was a bad idea. Thanks for coming down so quickly.” 

“Tell me what’s happened.” she asks him, following the young student as he leads her through to the back, where all of their research is conducted. They swipe their identity cards along the side of the security panel, and the heavy doors swing closed behind them, “Is there a problem with –”

“No! No,” Jack shakes his head, quick to correct her, “Dracula is still in his cell. He was reading a book the last time I checked. Everything is secure on that front.” 

Zoe relaxes slightly at this. Her first thought had been that Dracula had escaped and possibly harmed someone, or several someones. He’s surely capable of it, though to her knowledge it hasn’t been attempted yet. So far he’s been the perfect gentleman. It unsettles her. 

“So, what’s the rush?” she asks, frowning. The poor boy looks at his wits end with stress and exhaustion, and as soon as she has the situation figured out and under control, she’s going to send him home to get some sleep. They turn down one of the long corridors, in a rather disused part of the building. It’s mostly offices down here, rooms where they hold meetings or interview potential candidates. She has no idea why he’s leading her this way. 

Jack comes to a stop outside one of the doors, the sign above which reads ‘occupied’. She can’t see anything through the frosted glass window. 

“I think you’d better come in and see for yourself.” He says, turning to swipe his ID card on the security panel to let them both in. Zoe follows curiously, her view obscured by his height for just a moment, and then he steps to the side to close the door behind them, and she stops in her tracks, because she can’t believe what she’s looking at. 

Johnathan Harker himself is sitting at the table in front of her. 

“Hello.” Says the man who has supposedly been dead since 1897. His hands are clasped neatly in front of him, and he’s dressed in modern clothing – a white shirt, open at the collar, under a dark blue blazer. “Dr Van Helsing, I believe? I apologise for the lateness of the hour.” 

Zoe looks at jack, who shrugs at her helplessly. 

She takes a deep breath, and straightens her back. She has to deal with this professionally, even though she feels like the world has shifted on its axis beneath her. They have spent years training and preparing to question, detain, and deal with Count Dracula. Johnathan Harker coming back from the dead is not something that was ever considered. She’s out of her depth here – they all are.

She crosses the room, and forces herself to sit down in the seat across from him. She hopes he hasn’t noticed that her hands are shaking, just slightly, and so she mirrors his position, clasping her fingers tightly together to keep them steady. 

“Yes, that’s me.” She replies, “I’m sorry, but you look exactly like –”

“Johnathan Harker. At your service.” He tips his head in a little bow, a gesture reminiscent of his Victorian manners. It really is him, she tells herself; not a relative, not a lookalike. Johnathan Harker is, against all odds - _alive._

“Mr Harker,” she says, slowly. God, she needs a coffee. And eight hours more sleep to deal with this – “You were reported missing in 1897 and presumed dead shortly thereafter.” 

Johnathan’s lip twitches up at the corner, amused. “Funny little business, all of that.” He says.

Zoe glances down at the table, her eyes catching on his hands. They are slender and pale, and his fingernails are curved into sharp little points, much like Dracula’s own. She stares at them for a moment, before forcing herself to return her gaze to meet his. 

“Your fiancée, Mina Murray, searched extensively for you. She set up this foundation to fund research into Vampirism when the trail went cold. She hoped to do justice to your memory.” 

Whatever Johnathan’s feelings are regarding the mention of Mina, he doesn’t show them. His face remains quite impassive. 

“Yes, I know. I’ve been keeping an eye on you for quite some time.” Johnathan says. He pauses, before adding, “I did die in Transylvania, in a sense. I was subsequently….reborn.” 

“You are a vampire, then” 

“I am.” 

Zoe takes the time to look at him properly. Johnathan Harker is fair featured; his eyes the same striking blue as the oil painting displayed in the building’s foyer depicts them. He hasn’t aged a day over thirty. Of all the outcomes Zoe had considered regarding Johnathan’s fate, this was not one of them. 

She takes a breath. “May I ask you what happened at Castle Dracula?” 

“As I said,” he tells her, “I died. I lived again. When I was physically strong enough, I accompanied the Count onboard a passenger ship bound for England. We were subsequently separated when the ship sunk – I found myself washed up on British soil some weeks later.” 

Zoe hopes that Jack is taking notes, or at the very least recording this on his phone. It’s going to be a long night. 

“You have been living in England since then?” 

“Yes. When I discovered the existence of the foundation I took…somewhat of an interest in your work.” 

“You were in England at the same time Mina Murray was searching for you and you never made contact?” Zoe frowns, “Why?” 

Johnathan sits back in his chair, spreading his hands out on the table in front of him. 

“I’m not the man she agreed to marry. It was a kindness to let her think of me as I was.” 

She hears Jack shifting on his feet behind her, and glances over her shoulder to offer him a reassuring smile. He looks exhausted. She really needs to send him home as soon as this – whatever it is – is over. 

When she turns back to Mr Harker, Zoe clears her throat. “You’ve been following our work for over a hundred years, then. Why approach us now?” 

At this, Johnathan smiles, and there is no mistaking the glint of sharpened teeth behind his lips. “Of course. As I said, I must apologise for the lateness of the hour. You understand I cannot visit your facility during the day, and I have only just heard that you found him.” 

_Him._

Unease creeps down Zoe’s spine, for the first time since she sat down opposite the man whose name to which her entire life’s work has been devoted. She doesn’t trust him. “You mean Count Dracula?” 

“Yes.” 

She won’t confirm or deny it, not yet. The discovery had been kept carefully under wraps, well away from the tabloids and under strict confidentiality. There had only been a handful of select people entrusted with the knowledge, and the smallest security detail possible.

She purses her lips, thoughtful, but cautious. “How did you come by this information?”

Johnathan looks back at her, unblinking. “I have my ways,” Is all he offers. 

“Why are you here, Mr Harker?” Zoe asks him, outright. The words come out far blunter than she’d intended, and anxiety coils in her chest even as she speaks them, but Johnathan’s expression remains impassive – unbothered by her rudeness. 

“I would very much like to see him.” 

The _why_ hovers on the tip of her tongue, but Zoe quashes it. Instead, voice firm, she tells him, “That is absolutely out of the question.”

“I’d hate to inform the authorities of your work here, Dr Van Helsing.” Johnathan replies.

Zoe is having a hard time reconciling this creature in front of her with the man Mina wrote extensively about in her journals and diaries. Mina recalled a young man full of life, soft smiles, and a kind nature. Across from her sits a creature of the undead, hard and unforgiving. She swallows. 

“The authorities? What are you implying, Mr Harker?” She hears Jack shuffling on his feet behind her, anxious. Should they have brought security, she wonders? 

Johnathan shifts in his chair. He tilts his head to one side, assessing her. “On what charges is Count Dracula being held here?” 

Zoe falters at this. Of course, Johnathan Harker was – still is? – a lawyer. “Primarily, research.” She answers, keeping her voice as steady as she can manage, “But he has also committed murders, far too numerous to count –”

“On British soil?” 

Zoe takes a steadying breath in through her nose, and releases it slowly. “No.” 

Johnathan leans forward slightly in his seat. Zoe shifts away from him unconsciously, unnerved. 

“As I said. I would like to see him.” He repeats. “And then I would like him to be released, because he is being held here unlawfully.” 

“Wait a minute –” Jack says, speaking for the first time since they’d entered the room together. Zoe and Johnathan turn to look at him as he steps forwards, hands clenched tightly around the notebook, knuckles white with the strain. “You can’t just walk in here and tell us what to do. Dr Van Helsing – Zoe – will I call security?” 

“Tell me,” Johnathan says, pulling her attention back to him, “You have received a rather large number of charitable, anonymous donations through the years. Who do you think was kind enough to offer you that sort of money?” 

Zoe stares at him. 

“Your facility, your high-tech equipment, all that funding for your research, it all comes from me. This foundation is in my name. I can do whatever I like, Mr Seward,” he turns his gaze directly on Jack, who inhales shakily, taking a step back. 

“Is that a threat?” 

“Just a comment.” Johnathan says, pleasantly. “Have you made a decision?” 

Zoe drums her fingers on the table. She knows that she has no real choice, and forces herself to nod, just once. She won’t say it out loud, not without crumbling at the thought of this – her life’s work – being taken away from her so suddenly and so painfully. 

She moves on autopilot. The preparations are made to escort Mr Harker to the cell block.

Zoe informs security, and decides that she’ll leave it until the morning to brief the rest of her team, it’s far too late in the night, and she needs to go home and sleep before she can even begin to think about tackling that. 

She can hardly keep her eyes off Johnathan as they walk the long corridors of the facility, just an hour and a half after their initial meeting. 

To see him alive – in a sense – and walking beside her is astounding. It almost feels like she must be dreaming. If she is – Zoe can’t seem to wake herself up in time, because suddenly they’re outside the reinforced steel doors, and she’s reaching for her ID with shaking hands. 

“You will not be left alone with him.” She tells Johnathan. “Under any circumstance. He will remain sealed in his cell behind bulletproof glass until security arrive to escort Count Dracula from the facility. Please be on your best behaviour, Mr Harker. We would not like to have to detain you, as well.” 

He looks faintly amused. “Of course not.” Johnathan tells her, touching a hand briefly to his chest, “You have my word.” 

_Whatever that’s worth_ , she thinks. 

Zoe can only nod, before reaching up to the panel and swiping her card to unlock the reinforced steel doors to where Count Dracula waits for them.

**Author's Note:**

> There's more where this came from, so stay tuned! 
> 
> As always if you want to talk about vampires or history or being gay (or all three!) you can find me on tumblr at @aptanstjarna


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